I am pretty sure I'm not going to be very funny today. That is not to imply that anything else on here is "funny", in fact I have been told it's pretty stupid to the extreme. I just mean that today I feel too weird to craft anything even semi-amusing. Unless you're amused by weirdness.
A lot of sucky things have been happening lately. I've been trying a new strategy to deal with them so I don't get all depressed and stop showering. I just ignore my feelings, push them down, and turn up the music really loud. I also put extra energy into checking in on my peeps who I know are going through hard times and baking cupcakes. The whole thing is an elaborate house of cards designed to make me not be a hobo or a wet cat. (If you are confused, you didn't read this: http://interwebcuppycake.blogspot.com/2010/04/showering-is-very-important.html)
I had to put the link because I don't know how to do that thing where you write the word "this" or "here" in weird grayish-blue font and it turns into a link.
There are several other elements involved in this survival plan, but the point is that it cannot be disturbed. Forget the house of cards analogy, it's not a house of cards. It's like I'm one of those clowns who spins all the plates on sticks or whatever. Yeah, I'm that. So I have like 10 plates spinning and it stops me from being depressed, but then someone comes along and kicks me right in the back of the legs, right behind the knees. There's this really scary moment where I don't know if I can keep the plates spinning or they will all go crashing to the ground. I'm kind of doing this little dance and weaving all around trying to keep them up there.
I'm afraid of my plates falling and shattering into a million pieces then I will be a wet cat hobo after all.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Why Your Best Friend Should be a Geek
Geeks get a bum rap. In reality, they are a species of superheroes, and if you are a girl, you should totally have one as your best friend. Here are some of their super powers:
1) Super Gifting
Around the time regular cool teenage boys are making out with girls, going to the movies, and otherwise being socially functional, geeky boys are honing their stalking skills. Stalking is a great excercise to help you be a good gift-chooser. What's her favorite color? What size shoes does she wear? Is she a blouse-wearer or a tee-shirt wearer? What's her cup size? What songs are on her iPod, and in what order? All of these are things that a good stalker will know, and all of them contribute to identifying the perfect gift. Also, since geeky boy is usually broke from spending all his money on iPads and video games, so you can be sure that he won't get you some show-offy piece of bling to prove how much of a baller he is. He will however put a TON of thought into it. Regular guys buy gifts to say "Look how much money I spent on you, girl. I hope you're as shallow as I am." Geeky boys buy way more awesome gifts because they are trying to say "See how well I know you? It's because I care. Be my friend forever."
2) Super Listening
When the geek first meets you, he will be nervous and quiet due to fear of saying something geeky and embarrassing himself. This fear is well-founded and most likely based on several past experiences in which this exact scenario played out to his detriment. If you are lucky enough to meet him after he has learned his lesson, you are in for some of the most attentive listening of your lifetime.
3) Super I.T. Skills
If you own or plan to own any device containing small electronic parts, you need to find a geek and make him your best friend immediately. Having spent the better part of his teenage and young adult years attempting to simulate human interaction, he has basically mastered every piece of modern technology that you can purchase at Best Buy, the Apple Store or anywhere on the internet. This includes but is not limited to the following: your PC, laptop, Mac, iPod, iPad, iPhone, Blackberry, Playstation, XBox, LCD or Plasma TV, DVD player, BlueRay player, Roku, Nintendo DS, Ninteno Wiis, RockBand and Guitar Hero instruments, or any hardware or software produced 1975-present.
A few words of caution are in order here. First off, geeks always know if you are using them for their mad tech skills, and you will be denied. The only way to benefit is to love your geek truly from the heart, and then to express that love with home-cooked meals and allowing him to be seen with you in public. Also, if you are unlucky enough to attach yourself to one of the 2 guys out of the millions of available geeks on Earth who has NO technical computer skills, you have failed. Unless you really like playing Dungeons and Dragons and looking at dandruff, you should probably just cut your losses and find a new friend.
There are many more little magical nuances to being best friends with a nerd, but you'll just have to get one to find out. Meanwhile, if you like to get free stuff, talk endlessly about yourself, and have an operational laptop, then book it down to the local Game Stop and start flashing those bra straps.
1) Super Gifting
Around the time regular cool teenage boys are making out with girls, going to the movies, and otherwise being socially functional, geeky boys are honing their stalking skills. Stalking is a great excercise to help you be a good gift-chooser. What's her favorite color? What size shoes does she wear? Is she a blouse-wearer or a tee-shirt wearer? What's her cup size? What songs are on her iPod, and in what order? All of these are things that a good stalker will know, and all of them contribute to identifying the perfect gift. Also, since geeky boy is usually broke from spending all his money on iPads and video games, so you can be sure that he won't get you some show-offy piece of bling to prove how much of a baller he is. He will however put a TON of thought into it. Regular guys buy gifts to say "Look how much money I spent on you, girl. I hope you're as shallow as I am." Geeky boys buy way more awesome gifts because they are trying to say "See how well I know you? It's because I care. Be my friend forever."
2) Super Listening
When the geek first meets you, he will be nervous and quiet due to fear of saying something geeky and embarrassing himself. This fear is well-founded and most likely based on several past experiences in which this exact scenario played out to his detriment. If you are lucky enough to meet him after he has learned his lesson, you are in for some of the most attentive listening of your lifetime.
3) Super I.T. Skills
If you own or plan to own any device containing small electronic parts, you need to find a geek and make him your best friend immediately. Having spent the better part of his teenage and young adult years attempting to simulate human interaction, he has basically mastered every piece of modern technology that you can purchase at Best Buy, the Apple Store or anywhere on the internet. This includes but is not limited to the following: your PC, laptop, Mac, iPod, iPad, iPhone, Blackberry, Playstation, XBox, LCD or Plasma TV, DVD player, BlueRay player, Roku, Nintendo DS, Ninteno Wiis, RockBand and Guitar Hero instruments, or any hardware or software produced 1975-present.
A few words of caution are in order here. First off, geeks always know if you are using them for their mad tech skills, and you will be denied. The only way to benefit is to love your geek truly from the heart, and then to express that love with home-cooked meals and allowing him to be seen with you in public. Also, if you are unlucky enough to attach yourself to one of the 2 guys out of the millions of available geeks on Earth who has NO technical computer skills, you have failed. Unless you really like playing Dungeons and Dragons and looking at dandruff, you should probably just cut your losses and find a new friend.
There are many more little magical nuances to being best friends with a nerd, but you'll just have to get one to find out. Meanwhile, if you like to get free stuff, talk endlessly about yourself, and have an operational laptop, then book it down to the local Game Stop and start flashing those bra straps.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Showering is Very Important
It occurs to me that there are times in my life when the daily shower is the only thing that seperates me from a hobo. Not the endearing, "Oh you can tell she is a good person because of her kind eyes" kind of hobo, either. The "Clearly that poor woman is suffering from some serious mental illness and we should roll up the windows before we stop at this light and she asks us for one of our tacos" kind.
Let me explain.
Once in a while, my personality, my humanity, and my will to live take a little vacation. When this occurs, I basically become a useless blob, like this:
That's no good.
When in this state, which can persist for days, weeks, or months, the daily shower prevents me from crossing over into complete crazy-person-dom. The problem is that when I feel this way, the effort involved in the whole vertical bathing process seems absolutely herculean. Then I think about the cat. And I get in the shower.
Somewhere between the conditioner and the shaving cream, I start to gain momentum. Yes! I can do this! I do not have to be homeless! I'm just like everyone else!
The feeling starts to fade somewhere around the time I am shaving what seems to be my TENTH LEG and I realize that now I am too tired to towel off, dry my hair, iron clothes, get dressed, and the various other daily building blocks of a well-groomed professional. Then I think about the only thing worse than a lazy cat still in bed covered in cheetos:
I realize at this point that I have mixed my metaphors. Is she trying to avoid becoming a hobo or looking like a wet cat? Should we really be laughing at what is starting to resemble a real emotional instability? Why is she eating Cheetos so early in the morning? Is she now referring to herself in the third person, or is this paragraph supposed to be US talking?
This is the point in the blog when I realize I am totally lost and have no way of ending the post in any sensical manner. So I will instead say that today I took a shower. So go me.
Let me explain.
Once in a while, my personality, my humanity, and my will to live take a little vacation. When this occurs, I basically become a useless blob, like this:
That's no good.
When in this state, which can persist for days, weeks, or months, the daily shower prevents me from crossing over into complete crazy-person-dom. The problem is that when I feel this way, the effort involved in the whole vertical bathing process seems absolutely herculean. Then I think about the cat. And I get in the shower.
Somewhere between the conditioner and the shaving cream, I start to gain momentum. Yes! I can do this! I do not have to be homeless! I'm just like everyone else!
The feeling starts to fade somewhere around the time I am shaving what seems to be my TENTH LEG and I realize that now I am too tired to towel off, dry my hair, iron clothes, get dressed, and the various other daily building blocks of a well-groomed professional. Then I think about the only thing worse than a lazy cat still in bed covered in cheetos:
I realize at this point that I have mixed my metaphors. Is she trying to avoid becoming a hobo or looking like a wet cat? Should we really be laughing at what is starting to resemble a real emotional instability? Why is she eating Cheetos so early in the morning? Is she now referring to herself in the third person, or is this paragraph supposed to be US talking?
This is the point in the blog when I realize I am totally lost and have no way of ending the post in any sensical manner. So I will instead say that today I took a shower. So go me.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Childhood Me=Constant Overreactions to the Bodily Functions of Others
PART I: The Scary Bus Ride
Growing up, my parents lived on the first floor apartment of a double-decker. The second floor was occupied by a family with a daughter my age--Takara Palinski.
Takara was a year ahead of me in school, so we rode the bus together back and forth. One morning when I was in kindergarten, I ran upstairs to get Takara so we could go to the bus stop. Her mom was pushing her out the door, and Takara was saying something that I remember roughly as
"There is a pain in my abdomen akin to that of a small calf trying to be born through my belly-button! I see a white light! I should probably stay home."
Her mother's reaction indicated that the idea of spending the day with her 7 year-old daughter was new, unpleasant, and definitely out of the question. Her response, as I recall, went something like
"I don't care if you die a slow and painful death, ebola slowly liquifying your internal organs as you wait for the school bus. LEAVE ME NOW."
She held out until after we boarded the bus; we chose the very front seat. As the bus ride continued, my sense of foreboding grew to Biblical proportions. By the time we were halfway to school, the bus was so packed that we had to squeeze over to make room for Mike Wackell, who would forever be bonded with us from that day forward.
Why do little kids always state the obvious? When Takara said "I'm throwing up now", it was probably the most unnecessary statement in history. Her jacket and mine were already covered, and Mike was bracing himself for the coming onslaught of semi-digested....well....whatever Polish people eat for breakfast. Maybe some kind of pierogi. Breakfast pierogi. The worst pierogi of them all.
At this point you may be asking yourself "Why so much detail, Cuppycake?" I'll answer your question with a question of my own: Why am I the only one who must have this burned into my brain forever? Do I really need to carry this burden alone for another 20 years?
Needless to say, the rest of the us ride was torture. I was calling out to the bus driver every, oh, I don't know, FIFTEEN SECONDS "Bus driver! Help me! Takara threw up!" As an adult, I know that the bus driver was probably in a personal hell of her own at the moment and could not hear me at the time, as she was busy reflecting on a series of poor judgment calls that landed her at that moment and location.
It appears that the driver learned her lesson, though. By the time I boarded the bus after school, I had spent so many hours reflecting on the events of the morning that I was literally green and had little wide-eyed floating heads all around me shaking their heads slowly as if to say "Stay away from this one....Bad things will be happening here soon." She skipped all the other stops and went directly to my house, where I promptly exited the bus, walked three steps down the road, and threw up right on the yellow line. No pierogies, though.
Growing up, my parents lived on the first floor apartment of a double-decker. The second floor was occupied by a family with a daughter my age--Takara Palinski.
Takara was a year ahead of me in school, so we rode the bus together back and forth. One morning when I was in kindergarten, I ran upstairs to get Takara so we could go to the bus stop. Her mom was pushing her out the door, and Takara was saying something that I remember roughly as
"There is a pain in my abdomen akin to that of a small calf trying to be born through my belly-button! I see a white light! I should probably stay home."
Her mother's reaction indicated that the idea of spending the day with her 7 year-old daughter was new, unpleasant, and definitely out of the question. Her response, as I recall, went something like
"I don't care if you die a slow and painful death, ebola slowly liquifying your internal organs as you wait for the school bus. LEAVE ME NOW."
She held out until after we boarded the bus; we chose the very front seat. As the bus ride continued, my sense of foreboding grew to Biblical proportions. By the time we were halfway to school, the bus was so packed that we had to squeeze over to make room for Mike Wackell, who would forever be bonded with us from that day forward.
Why do little kids always state the obvious? When Takara said "I'm throwing up now", it was probably the most unnecessary statement in history. Her jacket and mine were already covered, and Mike was bracing himself for the coming onslaught of semi-digested....well....whatever Polish people eat for breakfast. Maybe some kind of pierogi. Breakfast pierogi. The worst pierogi of them all.
At this point you may be asking yourself "Why so much detail, Cuppycake?" I'll answer your question with a question of my own: Why am I the only one who must have this burned into my brain forever? Do I really need to carry this burden alone for another 20 years?
Needless to say, the rest of the us ride was torture. I was calling out to the bus driver every, oh, I don't know, FIFTEEN SECONDS "Bus driver! Help me! Takara threw up!" As an adult, I know that the bus driver was probably in a personal hell of her own at the moment and could not hear me at the time, as she was busy reflecting on a series of poor judgment calls that landed her at that moment and location.
It appears that the driver learned her lesson, though. By the time I boarded the bus after school, I had spent so many hours reflecting on the events of the morning that I was literally green and had little wide-eyed floating heads all around me shaking their heads slowly as if to say "Stay away from this one....Bad things will be happening here soon." She skipped all the other stops and went directly to my house, where I promptly exited the bus, walked three steps down the road, and threw up right on the yellow line. No pierogies, though.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Why I Am the Best Driver of All the Drivers
Everyone thinks that they are awesome at driving. Unfortunately, they are all wrong. Living in Jacksonville has taught me that I am the best driver in the world for the following reasons:
1) The Four-Way Stop
The city of Jacksonville has a "Gaze out the window at the beautiful sunshine and think about your future" Day every year. Unfortunately, it seems to coincide exactly with the day they teach about four-way stops in drivers' ed. The problem for me is that I cannot go out of turn, no matter how spaced out and/or confused the other drivers are. If they don't realize it's their turn to go, then I should just drive on and laugh to those in my car with me, saying "Today we rule the intersection as kings!" But I can't. I feel too guilty to break the code of the blinking red light, and therefore everyone must pay.
2) The Left Turn Yield on Green
When I was learning to drive, I brought my parents' Ford Taurus wagon to a stop behind the line at a busy intersection, put my left blinker on, and waited patiently for a break in oncoming traffic so that I could turn. This act of weakness cost me a lifetime of parental love and approval. For all the Jacksonville natives who do not know how to properly handle the "left turn yield on green" scenario, I'll break it down for you, in much the same way that my dad explained it to me: Pull up into the middle of the intersection with your left blinker on. This way, if there is no break in traffic, you will be forced to turn left when the light turns red. Unless of course you have no desire to ever get to your destination.
3) The Parking Lot
Arrows can be complicated. Sometimes there is a huge yellow arrow on the pavement pointing north, and somehow driving south just feels right. I admit, I have slipped up once or twice in the old Publix shopping center, accidentally going the wrong way down a one-way lane. It was a moment filled with shame and self-loathing. My eyes pleaded with each person I passed "Please forgive me! I'm not a bad person!" I think my reaction was appropriate to the crime I had committed. Often I am on the other side of that situation, and I am surprised at how many people give ME a dirty look, as if I have offended them by driving in the proper direction and thus taking up valuable driving space. Dirty looks and revving engines are par for the course in this type of scenario, and it could easily escalate into a strange game of Chicken. The best way around it is to just not go to the supermarket.
1) The Four-Way Stop
The city of Jacksonville has a "Gaze out the window at the beautiful sunshine and think about your future" Day every year. Unfortunately, it seems to coincide exactly with the day they teach about four-way stops in drivers' ed. The problem for me is that I cannot go out of turn, no matter how spaced out and/or confused the other drivers are. If they don't realize it's their turn to go, then I should just drive on and laugh to those in my car with me, saying "Today we rule the intersection as kings!" But I can't. I feel too guilty to break the code of the blinking red light, and therefore everyone must pay.
2) The Left Turn Yield on Green
When I was learning to drive, I brought my parents' Ford Taurus wagon to a stop behind the line at a busy intersection, put my left blinker on, and waited patiently for a break in oncoming traffic so that I could turn. This act of weakness cost me a lifetime of parental love and approval. For all the Jacksonville natives who do not know how to properly handle the "left turn yield on green" scenario, I'll break it down for you, in much the same way that my dad explained it to me: Pull up into the middle of the intersection with your left blinker on. This way, if there is no break in traffic, you will be forced to turn left when the light turns red. Unless of course you have no desire to ever get to your destination.
3) The Parking Lot
Arrows can be complicated. Sometimes there is a huge yellow arrow on the pavement pointing north, and somehow driving south just feels right. I admit, I have slipped up once or twice in the old Publix shopping center, accidentally going the wrong way down a one-way lane. It was a moment filled with shame and self-loathing. My eyes pleaded with each person I passed "Please forgive me! I'm not a bad person!" I think my reaction was appropriate to the crime I had committed. Often I am on the other side of that situation, and I am surprised at how many people give ME a dirty look, as if I have offended them by driving in the proper direction and thus taking up valuable driving space. Dirty looks and revving engines are par for the course in this type of scenario, and it could easily escalate into a strange game of Chicken. The best way around it is to just not go to the supermarket.
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